


Through the Endless Summer

by monetstcroix



Category: Harry Potter - J. K. Rowling
Genre: Alternate Universe - No Voldemort, Fluff, M/M, Mutual Pining, Nature, Oblivious
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2020-12-13
Updated: 2020-12-13
Packaged: 2021-03-10 20:29:22
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 3
Words: 6,667
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/28053207
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/monetstcroix/pseuds/monetstcroix
Summary: Sirius Black, along with his quite possibly homicidal owl, is up to something.
Relationships: Sirius Black/Remus Lupin
Comments: 2
Kudos: 49





	1. Chapter 1

**Author's Note:**

> Title from the lyrics of "Grantchester Meadows" by Pink Floyd.
> 
> Of course I'd write something set in the summertime in the middle of December...

Leaves flutter in the gentle wind, their fragile spidery veins visible in the sunlight, green over green over grey. And there, the most minute movement against the summer breeze. He inches forward, rough tree bark scraping against his knees and shins, and it comes into sight. The Augurey, sooty feathers ruffled and glinting emerald in the summer sun, casting a mournful cerulean gaze at the endless blue sky. His hands move as if of their own accord, tight around the cool body of the camera, pointer finger pressing down on the shutter and—

A loud hoot sounds in Remus’s left ear and he jumps ten inches into the air. And lets out a little involuntary yelp as the Augurey swoops into the sky, a disappearing dark dot leaving with nothing more than a sorrowful cry. 

The Sticking Charm that he’d applied to his trouser legs isn’t very strong because he’d wanted to still have enough mobility to clamber up and down the tree, so he nearly slips off the branch before he manages to cast a “ _Cohereo!_ ”

Panting slightly, he pulls himself into a sitting position and repositions himself on the tree branch, as comfortably seated as possible. The intruder, a fluffy little charcoal grey owl, hoots happily next to him. Remus recognizes it immediately as Sirius’s owl Elvendork as the owl flutters over to perch on his arm, a letter in its beak. 

“What is it that’s so important?” he mutters, taking the letter. It doesn’t look like one of Sirius’s usual scribbled missives, the envelope made of thick creamy paper that feels soft in Remus’s hands. When he turns it over, he sees that it has a red wax seal, the imprint of a dog’s paw on it. 

“ _Diffindo_ ,” Remus murmurs softly, directing the severing magic as gently as he can. He takes the seal into his hand, tucking it into his pocket, then slides the letter out. The parchment is lush against the calloused pads of his fingers and the black ink shines in the sunlight, looking as if it has just come off Sirius’s quill. Remus can nearly see him crouching over the parchment, setting the words down in his slanting script that still echoes his education in Pureblood calligraphy with the slightly thicker lines of the downstrokes and curling flair on the capitals of their names. 

_Moony,_

_Dinner tonight at half seven. Lupin Manor. Just the two of us._

_Padfoot_

Remus reads the letter twice over and then ruminates. 

The letter itself seems innocuous despite its subtle extravagance, but something is going on here. When they go out for dinner, it’s usually in London or Godric’s Hollow where everyone else lives. Outings typically involve all four Marauders at minimum with Lily, Dorcas, Marlene, Benjy, or Mary coming along more often than not. Remus is the only one that doesn’t reside in the vicinity of London or Godric’s Hollow. As such, the trips out to Remus’s cottage in the Welsh countryside are only reserved for full moons, and that’s always limited to the Marauders. 

Remus sighs, shaking his head and trying to dispel the speculation whirling round his head. Sirius will surely tell him what this is all about tonight. He’s never been much good at keeping secrets, after all. 

“You don’t need a response, do you?” he says to Elvendork who hoots cheerily, hops off him, and flies away. Remus glances down at the watch on his wrist, the brass and leather timepiece that his father had gotten made specially for him. Three in the afternoon. Hopefully he’ll be able to make good use of that time and locate the Augurey again despite its prediction. 

* * *

Remus trods up the dirt path to his cottage, pleasantly tired. It had rained as the Augurey’s cry had forewarned, but he’d dealt with it easily, casting a quick “ _Impervius!_ ” on himself. He’d enjoyed the short break from searching, sitting under a tree and watching the downpour turn the land even more green and lush. Although the only photograph he had of the Augurey was an endless blur, he’d managed to get a few nice shots of the landscape. Tomorrow he’d develop the film and remove the enchantments from the pictures so that he could try to sell them to a Muggle photography magazine. As Remus crests the grassy hill, he sights Sirius’s form, dark against the white stone of his tiny cottage. 

“Hello, Remus,” Sirius straightens up from where he’s been leaning against the cottage wall and Remus stops in his tracks. 

Sirius looks incredible, to put it simply. And to elaborate, he’s wearing an ivory shirt under a black blazer, unbuttoned just so to reveal the tips of the runes tattooed on his chest. His hair is tied back neatly, and his fingernails have a perfect coat of black paint on them instead of the usual chipped polish. Remus feels even shabbier than usual in his worn grey tee and dirt-stained trousers, and it’s difficult not to wish that he’d thought to cast a cleaning charm on himself before coming up the hill. 

“Alright, Padfoot?” Remus finally responds, not knowing how to properly deal with this man in front of him. He notices that Sirius has a bit of stubble, dark against his jaw, which somehow manages to make him even more fetching instead of the untidy way that an unshaven face usually makes Remus look. Remus realizes that he’s been staring at Sirius’s mouth for a bit too long and quickly jerks his gaze up. 

“Yeah. Very alright,” Sirius nods, an odd note of hesitation to his features. Remus opens his arms for their usual Marauder hug of greeting, established by James and Sirius after a long separation (really only two and a half weeks) their first year after Hogwarts. Sirius inhales as if he’s bracing himself for something, but then he steps forward and pulls Remus into a warm embrace that’s comforting in its tightness. He smells quite nice, Remus thinks, a fresh pine sort of scent. It makes Remus remember nights spent in the Forbidden Forest a long time ago and he can’t help smiling into Sirius’s neck. 

“You smell good,” Remus murmurs as Sirius pulls away (more hastily than usual, or was Remus imagining that?). Sirius’s eyes widen and Remus realizes that what he’s said could be construed as rather odd.

“Er, I mean, I quite like your cologne. Where did you get it?” Remus fumbles even though both of them know that cologne is the last thing Remus is spending his meager pay on. 

“Somewhere,” Sirius says, thankfully not deeming that worthy of further examination. “So, are you hungry?” 

“Starving,” Remus responds, following Sirius into the cottage.

“And the sky is blue and trolls are ugly,” Sirius chuckles and Remus is grateful to hear that short bark of laughter. The spiced aromas of dinner are already strong in the air and his mouth waters in anticipation. 

Remus heads to his bedroom first, setting his camera and notebook down on the bedside table before changing into a clean red shirt. When he returns, Sirius is unpacking the contents of the styrofoam takeaway container he’s brought onto two blue plates. 

“Mmm,” Remus says eloquently, staring at the folded fried triangles of samosas and fluffy round white idlis set on his plate, little plastic containers of mint coconut chutney and steaming orange sambar placed next to it. Sirius has also brought a few bottles of beer, a lager that’s one of Remus’s favorites. He recalls getting it the handful of times they’ve been to Muggle bars (mostly to satisfy James and Sirius’s endless fascination with Muggle culture) and feels flattered that Sirius remembered. 

“I got masala dosa too, your favorite. It’s in the box,” Sirius tells him as he sits down across from Remus. 

At least Remus knows exactly what to do with fantastic Indian food. He and Sirius both easily occupy themselves with eating, Sirius stealing half of one of Remus’s samosas and Remus taking a bhaji in revenge, contentedly chewing on the fried onion. 

“This is nice, isn’t it?” Sirius says when they’re almost done. 

“Mhm,” Remus responds through his mouthful of potatoes and dosa. He can’t help wishing that every night was like this. Coming home from a long day spent out in the fresh country air, rain and shine, to a pleasant dinner with one of his best friends. 

“So what have you been up to, Moony?” 

“I’ve been tracking an Augurey for my article this month. A few people in town have mentioned that they thought they heard someone, or something, crying just before we got rain, so I thought that was promising. And I actually found the Augurey perched up in a tree but your Elvendork scared it away before I could get a good photo of it. I nearly fell out of the tree myself,” Remus shakes his head ruefully. “Thankfully the cry of an Augurey doesn’t actually predict death. It heralds nothing more ominous than some rain.” 

Instead of laughing at this or coming up with one of his typical quips, Sirius blanches, looking stricken. “I’m a wanker.” 

“What?” Remus blinks, unused to Sirius expressing anything resembling an apology. The crease between his brows, the frown of his mouth, and the contrite set of his jaw all look odd on his handsome features. “You couldn’t have known…” 

“I suppose,” Sirius mutters, picking at a thread of the tattered green tablecloth. “Still. Don’t want to be interfering with your livelihood.” 

“It’s fine,” Remus shrugs, slightly bemused. “I have most of this article written out already and it’s only due at the end of the month. And now I’ve confirmed that there’s one around here. I’m sure I can track it down again before long.”

“I read your article last month,” Sirius says, perking up slightly. “The one on the Bowtruckles.” 

“It wasn’t very interesting,” Remus shrugs. 

“No, I liked the bit on how they attack people who try to climb up their trees or chop them down. Nearly took that bloke’s eyes right out before you intervened.”

“You would,” Remus chuckles, much more used to this version of Sirius. Remus had been searching for Bowtruckles in the forest when he’d run into a Muggle man in the midst of being attacked by said creatures. Luckily, Remus had been able to dispatch the Bowtruckles with a light stinging hex before healing the worst of the man’s wounds and Obliviating him so that he thought he’d run into nothing more unusual than a very aggressive squirrel. “I didn’t think you were a subscriber of _Magical Creatures Monthly._ ”

“Of course I am,” Sirius says softly, his grey eyes fixed on Remus’s face. “For you.” 

Remus feels a flash of irritation, his brow creasing. He’s consistently refused Sirius and James’s constant offers of charity since they’d left school, but he thought that they’d finally given up on it especially now that Remus has regular writing work. But now Sirius is subscribing to magazines he doesn’t even care about for Remus? 

“You’re a good writer, the best they have,” Sirius continues, oblivious to Remus’s annoyance. “That Lovegood bloke always goes on and on about strange theories that don’t make a shred of sense. Fun to read, but no good for anything more than lining Elvendork’s cage. And the Scamander woman spends too much time nattering about things that don’t matter to anyone else, like the mating habits of garden gnomes or variations in Hippogriff plumage. But everything you write is interesting, like you actually care about it all and want to share it with the masses. I could sit here and listen to you talk about Flobberworms all day because you, you just make everything so bloody amazing.” 

Sirius abruptly clears his throat and straightens up from where he’s been leaning over the table towards Remus. With every word out of Sirius’s mouth, Remus’s consternation has ebbed away and now he’s just sitting here staring at Sirius, any words he’s prepared evaporating into thin air. His cheeks feel rather hot, almost like someone has cast a Warming Charm straight at his face. Thankfully, Sirius seems just as lost for words. 

“I try to make the material accessible,” Remus finally says. “Although I don’t think that there’s such a shortage of magical creatures in Britain that I’ll have to resort to writing about Flobberworms any time soon.” 

Sirius laughs, still looking strangely nervous. “Good, good.” 

“Actually, I may not even be limited to Britain soon,” Remus continues after a few seconds of thought. He hadn’t wanted to prematurely share this news with anyone lest it end in disappointment yet again, but Sirius seems genuinely interested. And he wouldn’t mind basking in the anticipation with someone else. “My editor said that they’re looking into providing me with funding for a trip to the United States to write about the Jackalope population in Minnesota. They’ve already put me in contact with a researcher there.” 

Sirius beams. It feels rather like staring straight into the sun, but Remus finds that he does not want to look away from Sirius, his magnetic gaze and brilliant smile. The brightest star in the sky, indeed. “That’s incredible. You’re amazing, Remus.” 

“Yes, well,” Remus says, smiling. He still feels strangely flustered, but turning away from Sirius is an impossibility right now. It is as if the rest of the room has melted away, leaving just the two of them staring at each other. He dips a hand into his pocket, grasping for indented round softness, eyes still locked with Sirius. “I liked your seal.” 

Sirius glances down at the table where he’s set down the red wax imprint of the paw and Remus almost wants to protest the loss of eye contact, but then he quickly looks back up at Remus, his eyes widening and his expression somehow getting even more adoring. The image of Padfoot begging for a treat comes to mind. 

“You’re the only person I know who’d even bother to keep it in one piece, let alone save it,” Sirius says. Remus wonders if he’s imagining that tinge of red against Sirius’s light brown skin. 

“Even if it hadn’t been Elvendork delivering it, I’d have known it came from you immediately,” Remus murmurs. 

“I thought it was about time for me to get my own one instead of just using plain wax, and I wanted one that was the complete opposite of my family’s. They do a green serpent on black wax. Bloody creative lot, they are," Sirius explains. Although sealing letters with wax is something that half-bloods and Muggleborns rarely do as it's seen as old-fashioned, Remus appreciates Sirius's attempt at making Pureblood traditions his own. 

“I like it. It suits you.” 

“Ah, well, I, that is, I mean,” Sirius starts, looking as if each word is costing him a great deal of effort. Remus briefly wonders if Sirius is trying to make up for his past twenty-three years of not thinking before speaking with the amount of rumination that he seems to be going through for each syllable now. Does this man even know what moderation is, Remus thinks fondly. 

“You mean what?” 

“Nothing,” Sirius says dismissively, looking away and just like that, the proverbial spell is broken. Remus searches for something to keep the exchange going, grasping for the threads of conversation that have become well-worn paths taken nearly every time they’ve reunited in the five years since Hogwarts.

“How is work going?” Remus quickly pulls the reliable question, sure to keep conversation going especially if Sirius is working on something that’s making him use every last bit of his cleverness. 

For the last year, Sirius has been working in the Research Department of the Ministry with a division dedicated to the experimentation and enchantment of Muggle objects like his motorbike. Amazingly, it hasn’t bored him yet unlike his past forays into Auror training, Curse Breaking, and tending the Leaky Cauldron’s bar. It’s hard not to envy Sirius and his ability to try out anything that he likes, discarding every unfavorable occupation like it’s a crumpled sweet wrapper without a second thought. Even though Remus has grown to enjoy his current job of photography and writing, it’s difficult not to wish that he had the plum pick of any opportunity he wanted rather than scrabbling for the meager dregs of employment allowed to a lycanthrope. 

“Good,” Sirius smiles. “It wasn’t hard at all to make these Walkman things work with magic. I brought it into the middle of the Ministry the other day and not a spark or explosion from it, just _Combat Rock_ , loud and clear! It sounds bloody daft when you think about it, strapping on those hearphone things and being able to carry music anywhere you go, but it’s brilliant.” 

“Now the next step is figuring out how to enchant it?” Remus asks. 

“That’s right,” Sirius says. “The trouble’s coming up with useful things although I think playing music’s enough. Marlene had the idea to enchant it to store books, but I reckon the only thing that’s useful for is having it read you _Hogwarts, A History_ when you can’t sleep.”

Remus shakes his head thoughtfully. “No, I think it would be quite useful for people who have difficulty with reading for whatever reason. Like those who are partially sighted, or who have trouble comprehending the written word, or who just personally prefer it. It’s just another way to store knowledge, really. If you manage to enchant it to work that way, my editor would probably want to see if they can get _Magical Creatures Monthly_ in it and increase our audience.” 

Sirius nods, eyes rapt on Remus’s face again. “Yeah. Yeah, you’re right. That’s a good point. You always help me see things a bit differently, in ways I haven’t thought of.” Then, a little shyly as he glances down at the tabletop. “You make me better, Moony.” 

Heat is rushing to Remus’s face and he’s briefly reminded of that time he went searching for salamanders. “All I’m saying is what’s on my mind.” 

“It’s a good mind, Moony. Especially when you use it for the purposes of mischief,” Sirius grins at him, bringing forth more sensations evocative of crouching low over crackling flames with hopes of getting a glimpse of a fire lizard. “Cuppa? And then I’ll be off.” 

“Ta,” Remus says and watches Sirius go over to the kitchenette to prepare it the Muggle way, how Remus likes it best. There’s something mesmerizing about Sirius’s tall, lean form bent over a stove and he has to force himself to look away and down at the remnants of their meal as he casts “ _Scourgify!_ ” 


	2. Chapter 2

“Mmm,” Remus murmurs into the softness surrounding him, nuzzling into the little nest of blankets and pillows he’s built for himself as he hugs one of the pillows tightly to his chest. He feels so very peaceful and relaxed like this, probably the most calm he’s felt in a very, very long— 

A violent jab pierces the side of his face and Remus jumps upright with a yelp, rubbing at his cheek while reaching for his wand with his other hand. He’s greeted by a mass of dark grey feathers and happy hoots from the owl, heedless of the stabbing attempt. 

“Not the awakening I wanted,” Remus mutters, still rubbing his stinging cheek as he takes the letter from Elvendork. 

It’s a letter similar to the letter Sirius had sent him the other week, with the same dog’s paw seal and thick paper. Remus wonders if it’s odd to be already looking forward to these letters, regardless of their bearer’s manner, when he’s only received two. 

_Moony,_

_Go for a walk with me. Lupin Estate, half two this afternoon. Maybe we’ll come across some of your magical creatures and even rescue another hapless tree-climbing Muggle from Bowtruckles._

_Padfoot_

“Oh, Sirius,” Remus says with a small smile. Then he looks up at Elvendork, who’s perched himself on Remus’s favorite pillow and is looking up at him with big expectant yellow-rimmed eyes. “Will you continue mauling me if I decide to reject his invitation?”

Elvendork only answers that with another cheerful hoot, hopping off the bed and swooping out the window. 

* * *

Sirius’s arrival is heralded by a loud crack outside Remus’s door. Sirius is simply dressed in a plain white shirt and ripped black jeans, his shoulder-length hair loose around his face.

“Remus,” Sirius says, immediately going for the hug, which Remus happily accepts, running his hands up and down Sirius’s strong back before he can think twice about it. Even when the thought of potential embarrassment and awkwardness between friends finally arises, it’s very difficult to make himself pull away from Sirius’s warmth, the slight cedar scent of his cologne today, and the way that he seems to be smiling into Remus’s hair. Remus’s effort ends up being rather half-hearted as he only manages to move back enough to hold Sirius at arms’ length, hands on his friend’s biceps. It appears that he’s still kept up with some parts of Auror training. 

Thankfully, Sirius doesn’t seem to be complaining. There’s a brief flash of surprise on his features, but that’s quickly overtaken by a brilliant grin, making Remus’s heart leap in his chest. Remus can’t help returning the smile, and he thinks that he’d be happy to tumble headlong into any adventure Sirius proposes. 

“What happened to your face?” Sirius suddenly queries, his sharp grey eyes finding the newest silvery scar on Remus’s cheek. Given that he already has quite the collection of scars on his face, Remus feels oddly flattered that Sirius noticed. 

Sirius starts to reach a hand forward before abruptly stopping himself, shoving it down to his side. Remus tries to quell the rising tide of disappointment that’s just come over him. What’s gotten into him? 

“Your Elvendork decided to wake me up with a stab to the face,” Remus chuckles. “It’s only a scratch. Easy to heal.” 

Sirius steps away from him, his good cheer replaced with a growing frown. “Remus, I’m an idiot, I didn't mean to…” 

“It’s alright,” Remus quickly holds up a hand, unsettled by Sirius’s newfound penchant for apologies. He also misses the close proximity of Sirius, but that’s beside the point. “I get much worse every full moon. Little Elvendork is nothing compared to a full-grown werewolf.” 

“I guess,” Sirius says, a frown still fixed firmly on his face. “Still want that walk?”

“Why wouldn’t I? An overly enthusiastic owl is nothing between us and you know I’m used to dealing with all manner of beasts. At least Elvendork doesn’t breathe fire,” Remus shrugs as nonchalantly as he can. He does not fully understand what is going on with Sirius, but he knows that he does not want Sirius to withdraw or shy away, which is a very strange feeling since things between them have typically been the opposite way round. He supposes that this must be how James and Sirius have often felt about him and Peter, so he’s only returning the favor. 

“Well, except when I feed him chillies,” Sirius says pensively, relaxing slightly. “But yeah, you’re right.” He claps a strong hand on Remus’s shoulder, sending sparks flying through Remus’s stomach and all the rest of his body. “Lead the way, Moony.” 

They descend the gentle slope of the hill Remus’s cottage crowns, the packed dirt of the path bordered by wild-growing tufts of tall grass and little yellow dots of buttercups. The sun, surrounded by puffy clouds as it is, is still warm on Remus’s face. 

As they walk, he thinks back to the previous weekend. The four Marauders had all gone out to a dingy Muggle pub. When Sirius and Peter had gone to get another round of drinks, James had slid into Sirius’s seat at Remus’s side. 

“Our Padfoot fancies someone,” James had whispered conspiratorially into Remus’s ear, his voice scented with a faint tinge of smoke. He’d probably gotten a cigarette off Sirius, since he and Lily didn’t like to smoke much now that they had Harry, only indulging on the odd night out with a cigarette begged from Sirius, Marlene, or Remus. Peter was the only one of the Marauders who didn’t smoke, a rare moment of him putting self-preservation over following the rest of the Marauders. 

“Sirius?” Remus had asked, still sipping on the dregs of his beer. He had felt the sudden urge to beg James to stop talking, to embark on any other topic, but that would have been ridiculous. What reason did he have to do that? 

“That’s right. Any guesses on who the lucky bloke is?” 

“I don’t know,” Remus had responded, suddenly feeling quite irritated. He’d looked away from James, wide eyes expectant beneath his spectacles, and stared at the dark amber of the beer bottle in his hand. His mouth had felt tight around the corners, nearly tugging the indifferent set of his mouth down. 

Sirius had broken up with his previous boyfriend more than a year ago. Remus would never say it out loud, but he’d been quite happy to not be the only single one in the group, to have someone to commiserate with when the couples became too cloying. 

“Well,” James had seemed a little taken aback, but then he’d quickly recovered, adopting a far too innocent-sounding tone. “Fancy anyone, Moony? Any nice birds or blokes or anyone?” 

“You know it doesn’t matter if I do,” Remus had muttered, steadfastly staring at the bottle and trying to focus his attention on peeling its papery label off. He knew that if he turned to James, his friend would meet him with sad eyes and a frown, the look that genuinely made him feel awful for not seeing himself in the same light that James did. He wished it could really be as simple as James’s view of him, the perspective that he was just an ordinary bloke who happened to have a bit of a furry problem. But it’s not a bit of a problem. It overshadows everything about him, threatening to consume him whole in the eyes of some.

“You’re wrong, Remus,” James had said in that pleading tone that always gnawed at Remus’s resolve. Thankfully, Sirius and Peter had returned then bearing a tray of drinks. As well as a distraction courtesy of Peter who had seemed to instantly pick up on Remus’s irritation and started lobbing questions at James about Harry, always a suitable diversion. 

Now he looks at Sirius, at his handsome profile, the straight slope of his nose, the fan of his dark eyelashes, and his raven-black hair, slightly ruffled in the gentle summer wind. Remus takes a deep breath. This is nothing that he hasn’t done before. 

“Sirius, you fancy someone?” Remus asks in a carefully casual tone.

Sirius nearly freezes, his step faltering before he turns to Remus with an unreadable expression on his face. “Er. Yeah.”

It’s difficult to understand why Sirius is being so taciturn when he’d been quite happy to let all of them know about the virtues of Caradoc Dearborn, his last boyfriend. Although Remus had secretly thought that Dearborn’s guitar playing was quite mediocre, that his jokes weren’t very funny despite the uproarious way Sirius always reacted, and that his hair really wasn’t that shiny, he’d patiently listened to Sirius’s adulation of him as he wanted to show genuine support for his friend’s happiness. He can do it again. 

“So who’s this bloke you fancy?” Remus asks, wracking his brain. Perhaps this man is a Muggle, someone that Sirius met on one of their Muggle pub trips. However, Remus doesn’t think that’s all there is to it. Their friend Benjy had taken up with a Muggle girl recently and had been quite anxious over when to reveal that he was a wizard, but Remus can’t imagine Sirius letting the same worries consume him, not when he and James had already had a few near misses with the Statute of Secrecy and done nothing more than laugh them off. He must really like this bloke. 

“Is he a wizard?” Remus presses when Sirius doesn’t answer. 

“Yes, yes,” Sirius says quickly. “A rather brilliant one…” 

“I suppose you need someone who can keep up with you. So you work with him?” 

“No,” Sirius says shortly, glancing at Remus. “Uh, he’s a friend.” 

“Where’d you meet, then?” 

“Hogwarts,” Sirius mutters and Remus comes to a realization. 

“Sirius, you know that I would never have a problem with that, right?” Remus says softly with as much gentleness as he can muster (which is really quite a bit). Sirius stops in his tracks, turning to look Remus in the face, like a dog with its ears pricked. “It’s alright if he’s a Slytherin… as long as he makes you happy.” 

“...Good to know. Thanks, Remus,” Sirius grumbles, frowning to himself as he turns away and starts walking again, his pace slightly faster. Remus sighs and decides to give up on this effort for now. They should just enjoy this afternoon together and not let thoughts of other men spoil—no, _distract_ from it. He turns his gaze to the patchwork green land stretched out in front of them, focusing on the dark green of the forest.

After several more minutes of walking in companionable silence, they come to a crumbling stone wall with mossy patches, the woods beyond it. Remus clambers over the barrier with ease, Sirius quickly following. 

“Into the wild,” he chuckles into Remus’s ear, a pleasant low sound. 

Twigs and leaf litter crunch underfoot as they make their way through the thin trees, Remus leading and Sirius following closely behind. As insects chirp and birds call, a brook gently trickles in the distance. 

There’s a Dugbog that resides in the shallow waters of the creek. The dark squamous creature, resembling a chunk of old wood sunken under the water’s surface, had given Remus a nasty surprise on a scouting trip. After healing his ankles and finally giving up on repairing his ruined trousers, he’d spent a week making its habitat near-impossible to access on foot by barricading it with fallen trees and rocks, preventing anyone else from accidentally coming across it and getting attacked. Although it had derailed his search for an Afanc, he’d been able to turn out a decent article about the incident. He turns to tell Sirius this, but Sirius is already speaking.

“That’s where you nearly got your foot bitten off by that bloody Dugbog,” Sirius says, pointing in the direction of the brook. “I would’ve just hexed it but you went back and made it safer for everyone, even that thing.” 

“Everything has a right to its life,” Remus shrugs. “It can still live on voles and the occasional beaver. I wasn’t going to kill it for doing what comes to it naturally.” 

“Only you, Moony,” Sirius says and Remus might be offended if his tone wasn’t so admiring. “So where’re you taking me?” 

“We’re almost there,” Remus says, beckoning for him to follow. 

They emerge into a clearing empty but for a flat grey rock at the center, verdant lichen encrusting its rough sides. The ground is covered with lush green ferns and sprays of wildflowers, gilded gold in the sunlight. 

“This is where I come to write when I need a change of scenery,” Remus explains, crossing over to the stone and sitting down. Even in the sun the smooth surface of the rock is still pleasantly cool to the touch.

Sirius’s expression is unreadable for a moment as he glances around the clearing and anxiety grips Remus’s throat. Why did he bring Sirius here? He won’t understand, no one else will—

And then Sirius grins, making his way over to Remus in a few long strides and sitting down next to him. The surface of the stone isn’t large, perhaps a meter wide, so he has to crowd in close to Remus, a warm line against his side.

“This is nice,” Sirius says after a moment of silence. Remus turns to him to find that Sirius is already looking him in the face, his grey eyes dark as the sky before a storm. And then Sirius shifts even closer, his hand reaching forward, gently brushing Remus’s hair.

“Leaf,” he explains, pulling away and brandishing a round green leaf in his hand. Remus is mesmerized by the way that his mouth curls around that simple syllable. And in that moment, the realization that he does not care about this mystery man of Sirius’s, only about the potential press of Sirius’s mouth against his own, overwhelms him and chokes out all common sense. 

“Sirius,” he breathes, almost in exultation, leaning forward and Sirius meets him. His mouth is warm and firm, almost rough in its eagerness, and Remus welcomes it. He threads a hand through Sirius’s soft hair, a part of him whispering _finally_ , deepening the kiss as Sirius pulls him closer with hands on his waist, pressing their chests together. It is dizzyingly wonderful. And then Sirius pulls away to press hot kisses to his neck and reality comes crashing down on Remus’s shoulders. 

“Sirius,” he says again, pushing at Sirius’s shoulder, the edge of wanting replaced by worry. 

“You alright?” Sirius says, moving away instantly, his eyes intent on Remus’s face. Internally, Remus grieves the loss of his touch. “Was that… you want to stop?”

“We can’t do this,” Remus sighs, lacing his fingers together in his lap in a meager attempt to hold off the urge to reach out and pull Sirius in again. 

“Why not?” Sirius says, frowning. He looks as mournful as Remus feels, his eyes downcast. 

“You know very well why not,” Remus says, an undercurrent of irritation to his voice. Anger is easier than sadness, less fraught with wanting. “There’s that bloke you fancy.” 

The very last thing he expects Sirius to do is to burst out laughing, filling the clearing with his barking laughter. Add humiliation to the tornado of emotions whirling around Remus’s head, then. 

“It’s you! Not a bloody Slytherin or anyone else!” Sirius finally manages to choke out and Remus is struck speechless, all thoughts and emotions flying out of his head. 

“I fancy you,” Sirius reasserts, finally getting a hold of himself. He puts a hand on Remus’s forearm, the touch grounding even as it catapults Remus’s stomach to the stratosphere. “For a while now…”

“A while,” Remus finally manages. 

“It’s like it happened a bit at a time, grew a little more every day, so slowly I couldn’t see it until I woke up on the floor of Dorcas and Marlene’s flat the morning after that wild anniversary party they had, pushed Wormtail’s head off my stomach and Prongs’s leg off my face, looked over at you asleep with your head on the kitchen table with James’s head in your lap and thought _oh, I’m in love with Moony and he’s got the imprint of a salt shaker on his forehead_ ,” Sirius says, his broad smile brimming with adoration and joy and so much else. 

He reaches out his other hand, tugging one of Remus’s hands free and tangling their fingers together. Remus blinks. Dorcas and Marlene’s second anniversary is coming up in a few weeks. Sirius has been in love with him for almost a year now. 

“Sirius,” Remus says, his vocabulary apparently reduced to nothing more than a scant few words and Sirius’s name. _Sirius, Sirius, Sirius_. He takes a deep, steadying breath. “I think this… this has been a long time coming. For me too. I really fancy you too.” 

“There we go, then,” Sirius says, bringing up his free hand to trace Remus’s cheekbone. It’s easy, almost an instinct, to relax into his touch, even as the constant voice of doubt in the back of his head whispers about scars and premature aging and the ever-present shadow of his lycanthropy, saying that Sirius deserves better than him. 

“I like everything about you, Remus,” Sirius murmurs as if he’s heard that small voice of dissent. 

“I already look like I’m thirty,” Remus mutters. 

“I fancy the grey hair,” Sirius declares. “It makes you look distinguished. And the scars make you look rather rugged. This adventurous bloke who goes trekking through the wilderness, saving Muggles in distress and bringing tidings of the fearsome creatures that live beyond back to civilization.” 

Remus chuckles, leaning their foreheads together, a wave of warm affection crashing over him and starting to wash away the hesitation. It’s so easy with Sirius, so easy to let himself want it and have it, so easy to drown out the doubting. It’s so much easier than he’d ever thought it would be. 

“As much as I enjoy the outdoors, I think I’d rather continue this back at my cottage.” 


	3. Chapter 3

Bacon sizzles on the griddle as Remus scoops grilled tomatoes and sliced fried mushrooms into ceramic blue plates alongside slices of freshly-buttered toast. Next to him, Sirius is preparing tea, stirring extra sugar into Remus’s dark green Holyhead Harpies mug. Sunlight slants through the window, casting a warm glow over everything. 

“Smells better than when you make it the magical way,” Sirius observes, sipping at his own tea. He's wearing one of Remus's old, slightly overlarge jumpers, a grey thing with a hole in the elbow, that fits him perfectly. Remus rather enjoys the sight of it on him. 

“I told you. It tastes better too,” Remus smiles, poking with his spatula at the rashers, which are quickly approaching a nice golden-brown color. He inhales, enjoying the smells of the food, hunger already gnawing at his stomach, and starts to turn off the stove, ready for a wonderful breakfast with his—

“What d’you have there, Elvendork?” Sirius interrupts his thoughts as the owl swoops in through the open window, perching on Sirius’s shoulder with a letter in his beak. “It’s from James. Addressed to Moony and Padfoot, Château de Lupin…” Sirius says, opening the letter. He stares at the letter for a few seconds in disbelief and then laughs. 

“What does it say?” 

Sirius turns the parchment to face Remus as Elvendork hops off his shoulder. It’s blank but for a single word in James’s messy scrawl. 

_Finally!_

“Yesterday I told him I was taking you out, and I guess that when Elvendork came back with no answer, he worked it out. He and Peter have been after me to tell you for months... Pete came up with the idea of taking you out alone.” 

“Well, we'll have to thank him. Later, though,” Remus says with an easy smile, wrapping his arms around Sirius’s waist and leaning up a little to kiss his nose. Sirius laughs before properly bringing their mouths together, the kiss easily deepening and tugging at the want that seems to lie so close to the surface of Remus’s skin now, so easily exposed around Sirius.

Without breaking the kiss, Remus pulls Sirius closer with hands on his hips, skin invitingly warm under his shirt, and walks them backwards. The edge of the countertop irrelevantly digs into Remus’s back and the hard hot line of Sirius’s thigh between Remus’s legs subsumes everything else as he tugs Sirius closer, closer. 

“...I will say that food warming charms are useful for moments like this,” Remus murmurs several minutes later into the warm line of Sirius’s neck as his breathing steadies. “And cleaning charms.” 

“Oh, yeah… yeah, they are,” Sirius says, still looking a little dazed as he straightens the jumper from where Remus has rucked it up. It's quite a good look on him. In a monumental effort, Remus finally manages to drag his gaze away from the bare strip of skin above Sirius's Gryffindor-scarlet pants, the trail of dark hair leading invitingly downwards, and turns to where their breakfast is waiting for them. Or was waiting for them.

Elvendork innocently blinks up at them, his feathers and beak covered in the remnants of their meal. 


End file.
